Over My Head
by IronAmerica
Summary: "Which one first, Miles? The boy or the girl?" Post mid-season finale. Miles faces the consequences of denying Bass.


Hey, it's a new story! Miles really shouldn't have said Bass was nothing to him...

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Over My Head (For Somethin' I Said)

Miles watches the helicopter fly towards them with a sort of sick fascination. It's the first one he's seen in the air in fifteen years. Even if it's an Army chopper, even if all logic says it shouldn't be able to get up in the air (gasoline and diesel don't keep for fifteen years, even if properly stored), it's still equal parts beautiful and horrifying. Everyone freezes as the gunship locks on them. Miles swallows, hand tightening on his sword.

What the hell is he going to do with a sword? Throw it at the helicopter? That only works in movies. Worked. Did work. Won't work here in real life.

That little pause as the Blackhawk (it's not a Huey—not this one, anyways) rises up out of the old reservoir is enough. Militia soldiers descend on them. Miles gets the group circled around the weakest members—Danny and Rachel—and prepares to fight.

It doesn't work, and everyone's captured. Aaron fights back, and uses the last four bullets in his pistol to take out four soldiers. Nora uses a crowbar like a sword, but gets tackled by three men. Charlie and Miles fight back to back, but Charlie is taken down when Danny cries out in pain. Miles watches with disgust as Rachel calmly allows herself to be shackled. What his brother ever saw in that weak-willed bitch…

They're dragged back into the power plant and separated immediately. Miles is in the cell next to Charlie's. He hears her pounding on the door, screaming for Danny. She doesn't stop, and the sounds of her pleading and tears echo for hours until one of her guards enters the cell and knocks her out. Danny's sobbing, from further down the corridor, stops several minutes after that. Miles watches through the small window as Nora is dragged by, bleeding from a vicious head wound. She won't be killed, though; Miles knows that Monroe can break her to the Militia's yoke, given enough time. She's intelligent and knows what can be used to make an explosive.

Miles doesn't know what will happen to Aaron. The man's a technological genius, so that might protect him. If anyone can unravel the mystery of Rachel's blackout coding, it'll be the Wizard of Google. He's a bit surprised when Priscilla—the scary bitch who somehow made Strausser piss himself once, and Miles has _never_ figured out how she did that—walks past, arm-in-arm with the man. So…

Well, at least he'll be safe—if Priscilla doesn't kill him first.

Miles spends four days in the cell, huddled up in his jacket as the temperature drops. He's dozed off when the cell door finally opens. Neville's spawn, Jason, is there with three guards. Miles is too stiff from the cold to fight back, and lets himself be dragged out of the cell.

Monroe is waiting for him in a large, open room. Charlie and Danny are tied up and gagged. The kids are kneeling on the floor, facing each other. A rope connects the siblings at the neck, although they're too far apart to touch each other. Charlie's shaking in fear, and so is Danny. His eyes are closed, and Miles is pretty sure that the boy is praying. He doesn't blame his nephew—he would be too.

"Miles," Monroe says, tone full of forced pleasantness. He runs a hand through his hair, a sick, insane grin on his face. There's a wild look in his eyes that Miles has only ever associated with the more manic phases of the early days of the republic and the last few months before he left—ran away, actually.

"Monroe," Miles returns, voice tight as he's tied to a chair.

"You know, Miles," Monroe continues, smiling at his old friend. "You gave me some pretty good advice a few days ago… Changed my life, actually." He laughs, an insane sound. Miles watches his old friend pace, movements twitchy and erratic. The man looks like he hasn't slept in days.

"That's great, Monroe," Miles says.

"What happened to Bass?" Monroe asks, tone hurt. The insane gleam is still in his eyes, and Miles swallows reflexively. He's scared… "No, no, no… No, I know what happened." He glares. "I mean nothing to you, do I?" he says, echoing Miles' words in a disturbingly soft, even tone.

Miles swallows, eyes darting to his niece and nephew. Charlie is looking at him, blue eyes wide. Danny's eyes are squeezed shut and he's hyperventilating through his nose. Given that the kid was horribly beaten, Miles can't castigate the poor kid. This…

"Bass…" Miles speaks up, tone wheedling as his old friend turns to look at Charlie and Danny. "Come on. I didn't—"

"Didn't what? Mean it?" Monroe gives a short, bark-like laugh. "No, you meant every last word. I guess the eleven years of sex wasn't enough. Or was it the four years where I wasn't bending you over a desk, or where you weren't shoving your dick down my throat that did it? Or maybe it was because you were just… Just…"

Miles knows that Bass is getting more erratic and unstable. He watches Bass' hands twitch and clench at things that aren't there. There's a slight hitch in Bass' step that only…

"Bass, you're drunk."

Bass turns to look at him, one hand on his hip. Right next to a Colt pistol. Miles feels a chill settle over him.

"Oh, that should be apparent…" Bass says, voice low. The guards shift nervously. Bass smiles, a cruel, malicious gleam in his eyes. He spins and stalks over to the Matheson siblings. Miles clenches his jaw so he doesn't say something the siblings will pay for later. Bass runs a hand through Charlie's hair, runs the other one down the side of Danny's face—like he'd treat a lover, or someone he was enticing into his bed. Danny whimpers and jerks away like he's been burned. Charlie's eyes turn dark and smolder with hatred.

"Which one, Miles?"

Miles looks up and blanches as he sees Bass emptying his gun of bullets. He leaves one in the chamber.

"What?" Miles asks, mouth going dry. He knows what his old friend is asking.

"Since you apparently don't care about anyone…" Bass smiles and rubs Danny's cheek affectionately. "Which one do I shoot first? Do I shoot little Fiend, your precious niece?" The gun points at Charlie's forehead, and Bass cocks the hammer back. "Or does Peanut get a bullet between the eyes?"

"Bass, no!"

"Which one, Miles?"

"Don't!"

"The future Miss America or your future Marine, Miles? Make. A. Choice!" Bass roars, pistol swinging to point at Danny's forehead. The boy's blue eyes snap open, and Miles sees a resolve in the boy's eyes.

"Bass, please!" Miles strains against the ropes holding him to the chair, trying to distract Bass as he sees Danny's jaw begin working against the gag in his mouth. He can't lose either one of the kids. Not his niece, not his nephew. Not again… Ben would kill him if something happened to Danny or Charlie…

"The girl…or the boy, Miles?" Bass asks, pressing the barrel against Danny's forehead. The boy's eyes are wide, but Miles can see the steel in his nephew's eyes. He only recognizes it because it's the same look Charlie gets in her eyes every time she's about to do something stupidly heroic and noble that makes him remember what it's like to be human. What it means to love and be loved… She made him weak, and he welcomed it.

"Bass, I—" Whatever Miles is going to say is cut off by Danny, who's chewed through his gag. (Kid's got strong teeth, is all Miles can think.)

"Me!"

"What?" Bass looks perplexed, as though he can't understand what's happening. He blinks uncomprehendingly.

"Shoot me," Danny says. His voice is soft. He straightens in his bonds, shooting Charlie an unreadable look. "Shoot me. Not my sister. She's more important."

Charlie shakes her head vehemently, blue eyes filling with tears as she looks at her brother.

"Shoot me," Danny repeats, voice firm. "Charlie's more important." He says it with such quiet conviction that it's hard to _not_ believe him.

Bass smiles at Miles, who swallows.

"He's just like you, Miles," Bass says with a sickly-sweet smile on his face. "You know…" He shrugs. "Nah. I'm just going to shoot the kid. Pity…" He cocks the hammer back with his thumb, smiling at Danny. "Said your prayers already…"

Miles screams in wordless rage as Bass pulls the trigger. There's an empty click as the hammer hits an empty chamber. Bass laughs, an insane sound.

"Whoops. Gonna have to try again, aren't I?"

Miles struggles against his ropes as Bass cocks the hammer back, screaming at the sick fuck holding his nephew hostage to a game of Russian Roulette.

"God damn it, Bass," Miles sobs, struggling against the ropes holding him to chair. "You…you sick fuck. Please…"

There's another click. Miles has counted three. There's one last chance before Danny gets shot for real. He screams, desperation leaking into every word.

"Stop! Bass, I'll come back! For God's sake! STOP!"

The chamber clicks one last time.

Miles doesn't even know if his nephew was shot or not, because Bass is laughing loudly and the sound is hammering into his skull and everything is red and Miles just wants to wrap his fingers about that bastard's throat and choke him until he can't laugh anymore. And he can't see Danny, because he's being dragged away from the room. All he can hear are Charlie's soft cries as she says her brother's name over and over again.

And then, so very softly…

"Danny…?"

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Is Danny alive or dead? Drop a line and let me know!

This is a Lady and the Tiger scenario. For those of you who don't read Frank R. Stockton, it goes like this: There's a man facing two doors. One leads to his lady fair, the other leads to a ravenous tiger that will eat him. The story cuts off when he makes a choice as to which door he will open. Twain said the reader's choice of which one the hapless character actually found said a lot about the reader, for good or bad.

EDIT 3/26/2013: Corrected author of _The Lady or the Tiger_. Thanks to reviewer eternalsunrise06 for pointing that out for me.


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